


The Art of Forgiving

by Scorpia710



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Community: potionssnitches, Family Drama, Forgiveness, Gen, Potions and Snitches, Sequel, Severitus, SpringFest2016, TheArtofForgettingSequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpia710/pseuds/Scorpia710
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Severus could just keep Harry from dying in the night, then maybe they could both experience a life better than the one they had lived so far. Sequel to The Art of Forgetting. Winner of Potions & Snitches 2016 Storyfest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Important Note: This is a sequel and the first story in the series is The Art of Forgetting, and it is only 5,000 words. I can promise you that you'll benefit from having the back story, please review if you enjoy it! WARNING: this story contains quite a lot of rather unpleasant injuries, and their descriptions may be graphic to some and hard to read.  
> This story is also an entrant to the 2016 Potions and Snitches Springfest, the challenges I answered are: Something Similar by Scorpia, Anaphylaxis by Jan_AQ, Lost Glasses by Jan_AQ and Sequel Challenge by JAWorley. Beta-read by Waitingondasies, I so appreciate your help!

When Draco found the body of Harry Potter lying half dead against the trunk of his favorite oak tree, he thought he was hallucinating. Of course, he hadn't realized it was Potter at first, and if he had, the temptation to kick some snow on him and walk away whistling may have been too great to ignore. 

No, first, he'd spun around so fast that his booted feet slid dangerously in the mud. It took a great amount of willpower for Draco to calm his racing heart and steady his feet, but once he'd accomplished that, he stepped neatly away from the sopping wet ground and ran all the way back to the cottage. 

"Severus!" Draco gasped out as he threw the door open so forcefully that the handle came back to punch him painfully in the gut.

His ex-Professor had his wand steadily aimed at him while his eyes narrowed in distrust. His expression turned to anxiety as he recognized Draco. On the living room table, his newspaper had a growing damp spot from where he'd hurriedly thrown it down and knocked over his teacup in the process. 

"There's a man," Draco blurted, his hand pointing outside the cottage, "at the edge of the wards--I was looking for the ingredients like you asked me to, and he was just there, and he looks dead. What if it's a Death Eater on the run-or maybe he wants revenge, what if he's looking for me!"

Severus frowned and lowered his wand along with his taut shoulders.

"Then he's found you, and look, you're still standing here, as obnoxious and self-involved as ever. I ought to let him take you away somewhere, preferably somewhere far."

Draco gaped at him; his legs were shaking from cold and fear. "Are you seriously making jokes right now? This is not funny, damn you, what are we going to do?"

"You said he looked half-dead, Draco," Severus drawled, "What is he going to do, drag his bleeding carcass up the hill, across the floor, knife in hand, while you lie still waiting for him to stab you?"

Draco's eyes widened at that mental image, and he shivered against his will. 

Severus' mouth twitched even as his eyes searched for his shoes. He knew what his words would do to the boy, and he thought it was quite healthy to strike fear into his heart whenever possible. The Dark Lord's defeat hadn't done too much to Draco's feelings of self-admiration, he'd gone quiet for a few days--but joy of joys, he was remarkably the same now. The Ministry of Magic was desperately scrambling for sturdy ground, the disappearance of Harry Potter after the Battle of Hogwarts had thrown everyone into a panic. Though there were numerous accounts of people claiming to have seen The Dark Lord defeated, some were still in denial and others were terrified of the Death Eaters yet to be captured. 

The Death Eaters that were said to have taken Potter in an attempt to bring their Lord back to life once again. Draco shivered at the thought and Severus saw and sneered at him. 

"When one such as myself witnesses first hand your bravery, Draco, I truly wonder what that odd hat was thinking by not placing you in Gryffindor all those years ago."

His ex-Professor's sarcasm had grown steadily darker the longer Draco had lived with him, and though he suspected the man had some reason for acting so vile at times, today was not a day that Draco was willing to listen to it without retort. 

"Mother put me here so I'd be safe while everything calmed down--you have to protect me!" 

Severus waved away his angry words; he was on the verge of rolling his eyes. "Your mother did not 'put' you here, I took you in to re-pay the debt I owed her for saving my life, you will be returning home as soon as the trials are over and the mansion has been declared free of dark artifacts."

Draco made a sound of impatience, and looked pointedly at the door to the cottage, which caused Severus to give in to the temptation to roll his eyes. 

"I'm going, Draco. Make yourself useful and fetch my winter cloak, unless you want two dead men to deal with."

Swallowing, Draco did just that. He bit his lip and clenched his fists repeatedly in nervousness as Severus donned his heavy cloak and then his gloves. He looked at Draco, dark eyes amused and tired as he adjusted his cuffs. 

"He is probably a homeless man from the village nearby, Draco. Living as you did you've probably never seen one before," he shook his head and headed toward the door. 

Draco heard the muttered words, 'pet peacock, for Merlin's sake' and blushed in anger and embarrassment. So he liked big, fancy things; Claude, (the Malfoy pet peacock) was nothing to laugh at, the Flint's nearby were said to have a pet tiger. Draco's mother only let him have the more harmless creatures, no matter how he'd grumbled about it as a child. It was just another part of the pure blood lifestyle, something Severus couldn't understand considering his father was a Muggle and he was raised amongst the 'lowest of the low', or, at least, that's what Draco's father had said. 

But, Draco was learning that his father had been wrong before; he had been wrong about the Dark Lord, and look how well that had turned out. He was trotting across the English countryside in weather cold enough to freeze his nose right off his face, and wouldn't that look odd. Pulling his scarf up around his mouth, Draco ran to catch up to Severus' long stride. 

"What are you going to do?" Draco asked a little breathlessly. 

"If he's hurt or sick we'll heal him and send him on his way. Direct him toward the nearest homeless shelter; it's far too cold to be out here...especially alone." 

That was true, a thick layer of snow lay on the ground, and it didn't look like it would be melting anytime soon. For being late spring, there was a surprising amount of cold weather going about, as if the earth itself could feel the sadness from so many people and empathized in the only way it knew how.   
The world looked bright because of it, everything was white and clean looking, and even that ugly black fence that lined Severus' property appeared quite quaint when covered in the stuff. 

There was an odd look on Severus' face now, resigned, but his eyes seemed to hint that he was thinking about something other than the present. He was often like this, quiet and unreachable. He was so very different from the man Draco knew from Hogwarts, the one that had seemed so willing to offer him advice. 

Pulling his own cloak tight around his shoulders, Draco looked at his shoes. The dark brown leather was forever ruined, and his toes were frigid with cold. He scowled, stupid homeless man. Why couldn't he have found some other tree to sleep against, some tree far away from the property?   
Draco had been assigned the simple task of finding some clover, and once that was completed he could have been left alone inside, to ponder his fate now that the whole world had gone to hell. 

They reached the edge of the property, and Draco pointed soundlessly to the right. 

Severus held his wand aloft as they wandered through the maze of trees. The body was not immediately recognizable as such, because of the fine layer of snow that covered it, Draco grabbed Severus by the arm and directed his attention toward the proper area where you could barely tell that the dark bulge was not the roots of the enormous oak tree, but in fact a human.

Carefully walking forward until he was standing over the bundled up form, Severus frowned severely and Draco stared from a few steps away. He didn't trust the homeless man, for all he knew, it was a ruse to steal his shoes and whatever coins he had down deep in his pockets. 

He was curled up against the tree, one arm thrown protectively over his head and the other used as a sort of pillow against the rough bark. The clothes he wore were lightly layered in fresh snow, and noticeably damp. He was stiller than death. 

Draco hadn't seen a dead person since the last battle. There had been so many. Faces frozen with their eyes blankly staring, and faces that were familiar to him, even though he hadn't known most of their names. 

He suddenly hoped this man was well...and that he would stand up and walk away soon so that they could go back inside. 

Severus cast a quickly muttered spell on the man; Draco thought it might have been to wake him up. 

When the man didn't budge, Severus walked around so he was closer to where the man's face was hid and bending over, reached out to shake him. There was no sudden jerk of wakefulness; the man did not even stir. Now Draco could see that Severus was actually becoming worried.

"That spell should have woken up even a stunned person," Severus muttered to Draco and swiftly crouched down above the snow, the end of his dark cloak immediately growing wet.

He pocketed his wand and pulled the limp arm away from the man's face---and froze.

"What?" Draco gasped, goosebumps rose on the skin of his arms at Severus' expresson, he immediately expected the worst. "It's a Death Eater, isn't it? Oh, Merlin, what if there are more?"

It was a long silent moment before Severus blinked once, and then without even acknowledging the questions that had been directed at him, lowered the limp arm and slowly laid a gloved hand on a face Draco could only partially see. Expression dazed, Severus lifted his other hand and Draco saw a tremor run through it before it was laid on top of the man's head almost reverently. 

Watching quietly, Draco almost didn't catch the gloves Severus threw at him as he pulled them off quickly, and chucked them toward his young charge. He then fell to his knees without a thought spared to how they would bruise, or how his trousers would be ruined. 

Draco wondered if his ex-Professor would react to every hurt person this way as he tightly held the gloves, glad to be doing something, there was an energy in Severus' movements that hadn't been there in a long while. 

Bending close, he laid his long fingered hands on the man's throat. Severus closed his eyes in concentration and pulled back sharply a moment later a relief on his face so startling that Draco could only gape. 

"He has a pulse. He's still breathing, though...."

Severus' words trailed off as he pulled the man onto his back so his face wasn't half buried against the ground. There was dried blood on his surprisingly young face and his skin was deathly pale underneath, except for where it had yellowed from bruising. His features were familiar and Draco frowned and tried to fit the bloodied face with a name. 

His fear had dissipated a little, and he could hear his ex-Professor murmuring as he busied himself with casting diagnostic spells and carefully examining the man for reactions. 

"Why--do you know him?"

Severus looked up at him quickly, his eyes were slightly wild and Draco stepped back in alarm. 

"Of course I know him; you do too," he looked back down and pushed sopping wet black hair from the man's forehead. Draco thought his movement was surprisingly careful for Severus' normal temperament and he frowned when his teacher's hand remained on top of the man's head, his thumb stroking the pale skin once. It was such a caring gesture, and it unsettled Draco so that he looked quickly down at the forehead below.

Though he'd seen the scar a hundred times and scowled at its owner, Draco didn't immediately realize what it meant. The glasses were gone and his eyes closed, leaving him oddly vulnerable , but there was no denying that lightning bolt scar. It was a stark mark amidst the strange, sickly pallor of Potter's face. 

"But, I thought..." Draco shook his head, not sure if he was denying what was right in front of him, or just trying to understand. "The Death Eater's captured him after he killed the Dark Lord--he's dead. They wouldn't let him live after what he did!"

Severus's voice was quiet and sad; he didn't look away from Potter's face as he spoke. "It looks to me that he's been striving to survive, Draco. But, living and surviving are two very different things...-"

It was another sentence that seemed to have a secret message, and Draco didn't have the patience or the interest in decoding hidden meanings as he watched Severus cast a lightening charm. Black clad strong arms carefully went behind Potter's shoulders and underneath his knees, and Severus lifted him up off the ground, while Draco stood there and watched.

Potter's head fell limply back at an awkward angle, his blood tinged mouth was slightly open and Draco heard him take in a shaky and painful sounding breath before Severus righted him with care. With his head now leaning against a warm shoulder, Potter looked remarkably peaceful--even covered in blood. 

"Hold on, Harry."

"Why--"

Ignoring his ward again, which Draco thought was becoming quite irritating, Severus strode past him and up to the cabin. Draco had never seen his face so concerned before, he was holding Potter as if he was more fragile than a newborn babe. 

Nonplussed but growing angry, Draco stared at the spot where Potter had lain, the snow there was bright red and mostly melted from whatever heat his body had retained. Bitterness welled up in him as he turned to watch Severus striding away from him, all his attention on Potter.   
.............................................................................................................

It had been a long time since Severus had seen a body so broken. They had probably kept Harry conscious enough to feel the pain he was in, but weak enough that he couldn't fight back. How he'd managed to escape in this condition was beyond Severus' comprehension, how he had managed to make it to him of all people; that had to be a miracle. 

And surely, Severus thought, fate could not be so cruel as to give him back his son, just to let him die from blood loss. No, Harry would not die. Severus wouldn't allow it. 

The long walk back to the cottage felt like a lifetime, Severus didn't dare run and risk harming the boy any further, and he just couldn't let him go to be levitated now that he'd found him again. 

Looking down, Severus took in the freckles across the softly rounded nose and then the blood that ran over eyebrows that mirrored his own. His breathing hitched without his permission, as his facade of emotionless stoicism began to crack. Severus' fingers tightened even more around the limp and wet body in his arms.

His son. 

They were words he had not dared to say aloud in years, and he had even been extremely cautious not to think them once the Dark Lord had risen that horrible night. But now--the Dark Lord was dead. He'd been defeated by this recklessly brave and selfless young man. The young man he might possibly dare to now call aloud his own. 

Sharp pain seemed to hit him in the heart at the thought, for surely, there was no way that could ever happen, he didn't know if even Harry could forgive all that he'd done.

Though they had finally reached the end they had all hoped to achieve, so much had been lost in the process. He had raked years of verbal abuse on the boy while playing the bitter Professor, had turned his eyes away from the blatant mistreatment by the people that were supposed to love him most, obliviated him of the few good memories he had of Severus, tricked him into hiding his true appearance...the list just continued on and on. Severus had allowed him to walk towards what he had believed to be certain death.

Now, against all odds, he was here, looking like his true self. The diagnostic had not been promising, but it was better than what he'd feared for the past couple of months. 

He was still alive.

It was more than he could have hoped for. Severus had searched every night for weeks, traveling to every place the Death Eaters had ever converged: houses, mansions, dank little pubs and dreary places full of the scum of the earth. 

When they reached the cottage, the door flew open and banged against the wall at the force of Severus' wandless magic. It had suffered a surprising amount of abuse in the past hour. Not bothering to shut the door behind him, he strode into the closest bedroom; his boots trailing in mud and filthy snow as he carefully lay Harry down on the soft quilt and arranged his arms and legs so he would be as comfortable as possible.

He drew his wand to cast another diagnostic spell. It swept over Harry's body, chiming softly as it searched for damage. Still, the boy didn't move, Severus hadn't thought he would. 

"Is he dead?" Draco asked from the doorway. His face looked sour as he stood there quietly observing and holding Severus' abandoned gloves away from his body with two fingers. Severus determinedly avoided answering the question. He wouldn't even think about Harry dying, he'd just got him back.

"Fetch me some of your pajamas, quickly." 

"Why?"

Severus looked up then and glared so fiercely that Draco immediately looked properly scared. 

"Because if he dies from hypothermia I will tell the whole Wizarding World that it is your fault. Then, I'll cast you out of here so they can tear you apart limb from limb. Now fetch me some damn pajamas!"

Later he would look back and be impressed with the speed with which Draco could move when he was inspired to.

He fetched clothes from a nearby wardrobe while Severus eyed the ones Harry was currently wearing. They didn't even seem to belong to him, as they were far too big and bulky, and Severus wondered how he'd come by them and what he'd been wearing before. This made him wonder just what sort of harm had come to him at the hands of the Death Eaters he had once been a part of. He knew the depths of their depravity, and it terrified him to think that Harry may have seen the worst of it.

Focusing on healing all that he could see, Severus began removing the heavy jacket and used his wand to cut along the sides so it fell off. The long sleeved, dark blue shirt underneath soon followed to reveal nothing more than Severus had already expected. 

Harry had lost a lot of weight, and it was hard to look at because the boy had never been large to begin with. Additionally, he was now covered in bruises and a multitude of scrapes and cuts. The large looking shoes fell off Harry's feet onto the floor with a quick spell as Severus eyed the dirt and grime that covered his skin. He cast several gentle cleaning spells but he knew the only way Harry would feel clean was with soap and warm water, which would have to wait. 

"Merlin," Draco breathed in horror, staring at Harry's now bare feet, the pajama's hanging limp in his arms. 

Severus moved to see what had caused him to react so, and felt sick immediately. The bottom of Harry's feet were embedded with glass and coated in blood.   
The spell to remove the shoes seemed to have disturbed the wounds and even as they stared, fresh blood created a spot under his heels where they touched the soft fabric of the quilt.

"I feel sick," Draco muttered, and Severus moved forward to hold him upright as he teetered slightly. 

"You can get sick all you like after you help me," pulling Draco closer to the bed, Severus took the pajamas and handed him a wastebasket. 

"You want me to sick up in this?"

"No, that's where you'll put the glass once you start pulling it out of his feet with tweezers, but first, start a fire."

Draco broke out into a sweat right in front of his eyes and swayed again, "Oh...oh..."

Severus clenched his fists and tried to control his nerves, he couldn't get mad at the boy for having a weak stomach. 

"Draco, I need your help. Potter could die if you don't help me, he needs potions now, potions that I don't have, so I will have to brew them. I need you to help me take care of him, do you understand?"

Draco blinked and frowned severely at him, "Why should I help Potter? He's the whole reason I'm stuck here, with you--"

"No, listen to me, Draco. You cannot allow your bitterness to blind you from the truth. It is your own decisions that have brought you here, your own mistakes that cannot be undone. You made the choice to follow the Dark Lord. I know you didn't want to do it. You did it because you were afraid and because that is what your family expected of you, but still you chose to do it. You may have felt like you didn't have a choice, and there are some that would agree with you, but this is where your choices have led you. But now, you are being offered another choice, help me heal Potter, and when the world finds out that you helped fix their broken hero, you may not go to Azkaban with your father."

Draco was pale, but he had his teeth gritted and glared hatefully at Severus.

"Fine!" He spat, "I'll help, where are the damned tweezers?"

Severus turned Harry over with very careful movements. The diagnostic spell told him there were several infected injuries on his back; the welts were angry looking, and obviously quite painful. He was quite glad that Harry was currently passed out, he didn't know if his pain potion would be strong enough to block out the pain caused by the amount of damage done to his body.

Shaking his head as he heard the first heavy piece of glass fall into the rubbish bin, Severus wondered how his son had managed to get anywhere on feet that looked like that. 

"You always were extremely stubborn," he murmured to the back of Harry's head from where he lay sideways on the pillow. His breathing was so quiet that you had to lean close to hear it, but it was there. 

"He doesn't even look like himself," Draco said suddenly. "And not only because of the bruises."

Not looking at him, Severus carefully dealt with the deep cuts on Harry's back, frowning as they bled freely while he tried to rid them of any infection. 

"His face is wrong," Draco continued in a lower voice as he bent close to Harry's feet, trying to decide what was glass coated with blood and what was just blood covered flesh. 

"He's lost a lot of weight, of course his face is changed." 

"No...well, yes, there's that, but his eyebrows, and nose and--he has caught the Weasley's bug."

Severus blinked at the last part, looking up from where he was holding a damp cloth to one of the more freely bleeding wounds. "The Weasley's what?"

Draco smirked at him, then examined the piece of glass in the tweezers with a wince, though he wasn't looking sick anymore. "Freckles, Severus, Potter never had freckles."

"Seems like you spend too much time memorizing his face, I thought you hated him, not had a secret crush on him."

He could feel the glare from Draco, and it made him pleased. He knew the boy well enough to realize that if he was uncomfortable, he'd leave almost any subject alone. 

"I'd seen him almost every day for years," Draco muttered, "It's not like I watched him all the time or something..."

"People change, Draco. You haven't seen him up close in months."

His voice didn't come off as nonchalant as he wanted, and Draco seemed to notice, for Severus could feel his eyes on his back as he left the room to get supplies. There were so many secrets he still did not feel safe in revealing. 

Over the past year, the spells and potions used to hide Harry's true parentage had slowly faded as Severus hadn't been around to spike candy corn, or drinks to give to the boy. This meant that some of his memories had probably returned as well, and the thought scared Severus almost as much as his son's current state did. 

After all, did anything sting as much as rejection?


	2. Chapter Two

There was something Severus wasn't telling him. 

His penchant for secret keeping was not a singularly odd occurrence; it was only quite recently that Draco had realized just how many lives the man had been living. The information still hurt Draco more than he wanted to let on. The emotions were useless now, but he still wished that Severus had somehow told him--warned him that he was making a mistake. 

Maybe he had tried to warn him, in his own way, and Draco was oblivious to it in his little pit of despair. The path he had taken to reach this point seemed like a blur to Draco, how had he become so lost? 

How was it that he'd gone from being the son of a respected, pureblooded family, to pulling shards of glass from Potter's feet?

Draco stared at the waste basket, his thoughts almost as morbid as the bloodied contents within.

"Are you done?"

Startled, Draco looked up and shook his head. "I don't know, it's hard to tell."

"Get some clean water, try to clear away the blood, we can't leave any piece behind or it will get infected."

That would be a real shame, Draco thought sarcastically. He filled an empty basin with cold water, and returned to sit near Potter's feet, with a frown on his face. The water washed away the excess blood and revealed the severe damage done to Potter's feet. The tissue was torn to shreds and Draco's stomach rolled violently so that he had to close his eyes or risk losing the contents of his stomach.

He despised Potter, hated him for how different their lives had turned out; but, in that moment, seeing what Potter had done to himself, knowing he must have escaped on feet that looked like this; it was hard to not be amazed by him. A thought that should have occurred to him a long time ago finally decided to poke its head up in Draco's mind. 

"How did he even get here?"

Severus was already shaking his head, but Draco narrowed his eyes at him. "Was this some place you and all of Dumbledore's people had parties or something, laughing about how good you were at fooling people?"

"Draco, not even Albus Dumbledore has been here. I don't know how Harry came to arrive at the wards."

"I don't believe you--and why are you calling him that?"

"It's his name--"

"You always called him Potter, or was that a lie too? Were you actually all chummy together--I didn't think Potter could act that well."

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Severus seemed exhausted by the discussion and looked tempted to ignore him. Draco's animosity towards the secrets that had been kept from him seemed to rise whenever the mood struck him. 

"I'm not having this...fickle argument with you right now, get done and you can go to your room--" Severus stopped talking when he remembered exactly which room they were standing in. Draco smiled grimly. 

"You already gave my room away to someone who's not even conscious enough to enjoy it. Where am I supposed to go now?"

"You can stay in my room."

That was a surprise, and Draco knew his shock was easily recognizable on his face. "You never let me into your room. You said that if I tried to snoop around--"

"I won't be needing the bed, I'll be in here until he wakes up."

There was a fierceness to his voice, and Draco once again felt nonplussed. He shook his head and eyed the bloodied pile of clothes that was growing by Severus' feet as he spelled them off of Potter and cleaned any wounds that came to his attention. 

He'd removed as much glass as he could see and Potter's feet needed to be bandaged, but there was probably a salve that needed to be applied first. Draco wasn't about to offer to do that, he didn't like how his eyes kept going back to the bruises and scrapes on Potter's naked chest though, and so he stood up and looked around for something to do. 

"He won't need those disgusting things anymore, want me to burn them?"

Severus glanced at the clothes Draco was gesturing at.

"Nothing so dramatic, just put them in the rubbish."

Levitating them off the ground, Draco had almost made it out of the room when a small red  
handkerchief fell out from a pocket in the huge coat and landed on the floor at his feet. Potter had tied it together more than once, as if he wanted to make sure none of the contents slipped out. After a second, Draco bent to pick it up and undo the knots, the clothes laid forgotten at his feet. 

The small cloth bundle fell open in his hand, and Draco stared without comprehension at the brightly colored things that lay in his hand. 

"What's this stuff?"

Severus sighed, but turned to look at what Draco held out to him and his face immediately paled. His dark eyes never blinked and he stared at the bundle in Draco's cupped hand. 

"It was in his coat pocket, what is it?"

"A Muggle sweet," Severus said quietly, and hesitantly, "called candy corn," Severus took it from Draco as he spoke, and his hand curled tightly around the bundle as if he would happily destroy the contents.

Draco stared at him. "Potter took time while escaping to fetch some sweets, but couldn't take a moment to pull glass out of his feet?"

There was more emotion on Severus' face than Draco was comfortable seeing, a deep sadness that confused him. The confusion was mixed with anger, and he wanted to know what the hell was going on. There was obviously something more, but he didn't know what it was, and he hated feeling ignorant.

"Severus, why did Potter have that?"

"I don't know, Draco."

Suspecting he did in fact know the answer to his question, and a lot more, Draco glared at his back and turned sharply to finish disposing of the clothes. 

.............................................................

Head spinning, Severus looked over Harry's face. The dark circles under his eyes, the slowly healing bruise across his jaw and the hand shaped marks across his throat. Trying to control the anger he could feel rising just under his skin, Severus pressed his tightly closed fist against his mouth, eyes closing briefly. 

If the urge to scream at the unfairness of the world welled up in him, he could just bite down on his knuckle until it bled. 

In his other hand was the candy corn which he knew without testing would be laced with potion to change Harry's appearance. The boy must have known longer than Severus realized. He had not sent him the laced candy corn in...well, it must have been over two years ago.   
He'd taken to putting the potion in the boy's pumpkin juice before school holidays, it was not as dangerous and would be harder to trace back to him, and once the Dark Lord came back he had had to be more cautious than ever.   
When he had realized all those years ago, that his Obliviate's were fading with time, Severus had scolded himself and remedied the problem. 

Stupid sentimentality would get Harry killed, he had to put aside such emotion and destroy any thoughts of a future with his son. The position in the Dark Lord's ranks could not be sacrificed. Now, thinking back on how he'd strengthened his spell casting, Severus was sure that the Obliviate has not failed...so when had the boy realized the truth and started saving the laced sweets?

There were so many questions he wanted answers too, and yet, he dreaded the thought of asking knowing those green eyes would be narrowed in on him in distrust. 

Tightly closing his own eyes in exhaustion at the life he'd led thus far, Severus sighed. 

He would just have to be content with healing Harry, erasing all the bruises and healing all the cuts until there was nothing left to see; no outward sign of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his capturers.   
Picking up the salve he'd made earlier that week, never knowing he'd have to use it so soon, Severus got busy with rubbing it onto all those cuts and bruises so that at least when Harry woke up, everything he went through couldn't be seen with a mirror. The mental and psychological scars would take much longer to heal. 

Never stirring under his careful administrations, Harry slept on, and Severus hoped that if he was dreaming, it wasn't nightmares. 

They'd both had enough nightmares for several lifetimes.

...............................................................

Harry immediately tensed upon waking up and the pain he hadn't felt in sleep made itself known. 

During his month long captivity with the Death Eaters, his body almost expected abuse upon waking. Sometimes Harry had woken up there, curled into himself as tightly as possible, as if even in unconsciousness, his body knew he wasn't safe enough to relax.

He kept his eyes closed and used his other senses to determine just what sort of situation he was in now. Calloused fingertips lay on some unfamiliar surface, and when Harry dared to move them just an inch he found soft, cool cotton. 

Becoming more aware, Harry realized that he was lying on an actual bed and stifled a whimper. 

A bed, not a cold stone floor, and if that wasn't enough to make his throat tight, someone had lain a quilt across him and tucked it in so that no heat escaped. He couldn't ever remember someone tucking him in. Somewhere in the room, a fireplace crackled softly, it had been a long time since Harry had felt the heat of a cozy fire...a very long time.  
The last few minutes before Harry had passed out in the woods ran through his head, and without his permission, his arm shook with restrained emotion, fingernails scratching the surface of the quilt as his hand clenched down on the soft material. 

A warm hand suddenly wrapped tightly over his own, stilling the shaking as the other person radiated safety and calmness in the face of his distress. 

Oddly, Harry had a very strong feeling that he knew who the hand belonged to, and the relief that swept through him was so strong that he felt his breath catch in his chest with a choked sound. 

Another hand fell gently across his forehead for just the barest of moments before Harry opened his eyes. Quickly withdrawing his hand from Harry's face, as if he wasn't sure it would be appreciated, Severus moved back in his chair and stared at him unnervingly. 

Meeting his eyes without flinching from where his head rested on a pillow, Harry stared as well. 

There was no light in the room other than that of the fireplace that crackled as the flames twisted above the logs, but it was enough to see the trepidation in his father's dark eyes. There were a dozen  
things Harry could have said, questions that had run around his head for months now, but it was too soon, and his body ached too much. 

"Water?" he asked instead, his voice quiet and exhausted.

There was only the slightest of movements before a glass was lifted to his lips, Severus must have had it ready on the table beside them, knowing Harry would be parched when he awoke. It was odd to think of the man trying to predict his needs.

Lifting a weak hand to the glass, Harry was grateful when Severus helped him hold it and at least gave him the illusion of having some independence. 

"I had not expected you to wake so soon. Too soon, your body needs more rest." He put the glass back on the bedside table when Harry moved back from it and then lifted a potion up. 

"No, wait," Harry muttered, turning his head away from the potion he recognized from his time in the Hospital Wing as a pain reducer that aided sleep. "How did I get here?"

There was honesty in Severus' eyes that Harry trusted when he responded. 

"I'm not sure, to my knowledge you've never been here, and there are no portkey's with this destination."

Harry swallowed and rubbed at his eyes, trying to remember exactly what had gone through his head before he'd passed out. "I think...I was so desperate to be somewhere safe, they were about to find me and my legs were about to collapse." Swallowing painfully, his throat sore from all the cold air he had breathed in while outside in the snow, Harry shivered in memory. "I could almost feel myself slipping out of consciousness even as I was stumbling around--"

"Yes?" Severus whispered, realizing Harry was holding something back when he looked down at his hands.

"I wanted to be safe, warm, and most of all I just wanted someone...someone to protect me from them."

There was a heavy silence. Harry hadn't meant to say so much, that he was yearning, at least in those moments for someone to take care of him, someone like a father.

Severus cleared his throat softly. "Did I, perhaps, come to mind in that moment?"

Finding some remaining bravery inside, Harry looked at him, truly looked and saw the signs of worry on the man's face that hadn't always been there and he knew that his recent abduction had caused those lines. 

"You were the only person I thought of."

It was an easier admission than he thought it would be, but Harry still cleared his throat and tried to move past it. 

"Do you think my magic somehow--found you?"

"It seems the only explanation worthy of our consideration. It's amazing that you didn't harm yourself in the process of apparating here, especially considering the state we found you in."

Harry blinked and then frowned, "We?"

"Me and young Mister Malfoy."

"Malfoy's here?"

"Yes, I'm housing him while the ministry tries to right itself and put together trials for those that didn't escape. His mother is responsible for saving my life moments before it would have been too late...I noticed you didn't seem too shocked by my not being...dead."

Harry's eyes went to the man's throat and the still vivid scars before he raised them and swallowed. "The Death Eaters talked about your surprising recovery, they weren't too pleased. I...I was though."

The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but Harry looked away from Severus' bright eyes. 

"Will you take the potion now? Your body needs sleep to heal."

Harry nodded and reached for it gratefully, his arm muscles complaining at the small movement. 

Not even five minutes later, a deep contentment seemed to fill him, and Harry couldn't be sure which was more to blame for that, the potion, or the warm hand that once again had covered his own. 

...............................................................

With eyes narrowed in disdain, Draco stared at Potter's content face. He'd been sleeping for what seemed like an era, the early morning light had turned its attention away from the window as if it was tired of waiting on Potter to wake up too. 

Severus had told him to watch Potter as he went to brew a few necessary potions, and Draco had consented to do so, but not happily. What was Potter going to do, honestly? Burst into flames if he wasn't mothered constantly? He didn't get enough attention when he was awake that he now had to be smothered with constant care while unconscious too? 

Some part of Draco told him that he was being childish, and in his most stubborn mental tone, he told the voice to shut it. 

Swigging his lukewarm tea, Draco turned to examine the potion bottles on what had once been his bedside table: pain relieving potions of various strengths, multiple salves for burns and cuts, and a thick paste that smelt like raspberries for reducing the appearance of scars. 

Raising an eyebrow, Draco wondered if Potter would be upset with Severus trying to get rid of the scars. Maybe the Gryffindor wanted to act like they were battle wound; it seemed a very Potter like thing to do. 

Slowly, Draco's eyes went to Potter's hand that rested on top of his chest, and then to the thin red scars that encircled his wrist. Some parts were still scabbed over where whatever material the Death Eaters had used to tie him up had cut into his skin deeply. 

Shivering suddenly, Draco scowled and looked away--but then his eyes landed on Potter's feet which were uncovered so that the thick balm Severus had applied would not be disturbed. He'd run from the Death Eaters on those feet, had literally run for his life. 

Potter twitched in his sleep, his whole body jumping as if he'd been shocked and Draco had to hold back a yelp of surprise. When the Gryffindor's eyebrows scrunched in pain and his mouth tightened in a firm line, Draco stood up to get Severus--and then stopped. He hadn't been able to account for Potter's different features before, and no matter what Severus said, he had changed and not just due to a bad diet while in captivity, but in that moment Potter had reminded him of someone. 

"Has Harry woken up again? Draco?"

Turning, mouth opened slightly from awe and confusion, Draco looked at where his ex-professor stood in the doorway and knew who Potter was starting to remind him of. 

...............................................................

The cottage had been in his possession for nearly nineteen years. Severus had bought it hoping that his family could live here, the multitude of bad decisions he'd made in the past would not hold him back from facing the future with brave new eyes. With the woman he loved at his side, he'd felt invincible, like a new creature that had known pain and hardship but had become all the stronger for it...perhaps that was when fate had started planning his downfall. 

He had been so close to leaving the Death Eaters when the Dark Lord sent them on that raid, he had believed it would be the last one he was forced to go on. 

In the many years since Lily's death, Severus had visited the cottage when his need to rage at the injustice of the world was overwhelming and he knew that staying at Hogwarts in those moments was too dangerous. Should a portrait overhear his raging and mention it to someone--no, he could avoid that best by screaming here, where no one could hear him and wonder. 

The pain at the sight of the place was like ripping apart a freshly healed wound every time his eyes lay on the blue door and shingled windows. Dark green ivy crawled up the sides, and the sun rose every morning to shine brightly in the windows and announce that a new day was upon them. 

Severus knew the cottage well, it held a very special place in his heart, and even though he had wanted to hate it for all that it reminded him of, he just couldn't. But in that moment, standing in the doorway of the room where Harry lay unconscious, he felt like a stranger that didn't belong.

It was all due to the way he was being stared at. There was a dawning recognition is Draco's eyes that Severus could not imagine the reason for. The young man had never looked at him before in this manner. As if he understood something quite startling, and yet with the awareness, came confusion.

"Draco?"

The other boy blinked at him but didn't speak immediately and Severus grew concerned. 

"Are you ill?"

Shaking his head, Draco opened his mouth--and from his place on the bed Harry whimpered. 

Attention immediately diverted, Severus moved past Draco and headed straight to Harry's side, his wand already out to cast a diagnostic spell and determine the reason for his distress. The reason was made blatantly clear without the need for spells as Harry suddenly awoke with a gasp and struggled to sit up.

"Harry--wait, you'll hurt yourself--"

Not managing to sit up all the way, Harry leaned over the side of the bed and threw up the few potions he'd managed to swallow the night before. The mess was vanished in moments and Severus transfigured the wastebasket into a basin and helped Harry sit up so he could hold it. 

Looking up, Severus opened his mouth to ask for a wet cloth and was surprised to see Draco holding one out to him face impassive. 

"Thank you."

"Do you want a stomach calming draft?"

"No..." He winced as Harry threw up again, moaning slightly as he did. "I don't think that will help in this case."

Severus had his hands on Harry's shoulders, supporting the bleary eyed boy as he leaned over the basin. His head was unsteady on his shoulders, falling forward to lean on the edge of the basin as he tried to get his breath back, sweat gathering on his brow. 

"I think a change of clothes would be appreciated though."

Severus felt when the thin shoulders tensed again a moment later and wasn't surprised when Harry was sick again.

"What do you think it is if it's not something related to his stomach being upset by a sudden intake of potions?"

Severus was quite pleased that Draco was interested in helping and curious about his diagnosis; but because of what the diagnosis was, he was also uncomfortable. 

"I think he's allergic to one of the ingredients in a certain potion I gave him."

Draco blinked, "Oh, how do you reckon that?"

Severus ignored him and leaned around Harry so he could see his sweaty face. Wiping at his mouth gently, he watched as Harry held tightly to the basin and tried to calm his breathing as his stomach muscles stopped convulsing. 

"Better?" he asked a moment later and Harry nodded tiredly. "Would you mind making some tea, Draco?"

Draco left the room, his narrowed eyes telling Severus he didn't understand why his question had gone unanswered.

"I apologize for this," Severus said softly and Harry opened his eyes to look at him curiously. "I should have realized you might react badly to vervain."

Leaning back on the bed slightly, wincing as he tried to adjust himself to a more comfortable position, Harry cleared his throat before asking softly, "Why should you have known that? I didn't even know that."

Shifting forward to lay his arms across his knees and steeple his fingers, Severus stared at him for a moment and then answered in the same soft way he had used the night before. 

"It's genetic, Harry. You inherited the allergy from me. I have known about my intolerance to vervain since was quite young, it didn't even cross my mind that you would experience the same side-effects."

Harry's eyes seemed quite bright in his pale face, and Severus was starting to get nervous when he smiled slightly. 

"I guess I can't say you never gave me anything."

Surprised by the humor in Harry's voice, Severus smirked slightly. 

"I'll attempt to do a better job of gifting you with things in the future." 

There was no verbal agreement that they were both hoping for a future spent getting to know the other, just a shared look that was interrupted when Draco came back in, looking at the tray in his hands as if it had offended him somehow. 

"Honestly, you should get a house elf, Severus," he said as he put it on the writing desk with a heavy thunk that rattled the china.

"Did you burn yourself this time?"

"...No."

"Then why bother with a house elf when you are learning so very quickly?"

Draco frowned and his gray eyes flashed over to Harry, "Good job not dying, Potter. If you're done vomiting all over my room, you should feel free to leave as soon as possible." 

He turned and strode out of the room with his head high and his fists held tightly at his sides. 

"Draco is a mixed mass of emotions," Severus said as he moved to pour two cups of tea. "Some small part of him is immensely grateful to be released from the Dark Lord's service; the much larger, childish part of him is angry that he is facing punishment for crimes he felt forced to commit. Angry that he can't return home, angry that he can't see his father, angry to be under house arrest with me until the ministry knows what to do with him. I imagine there is also a large dose of self-resentment, but heaven knows if anyone will ever see it."

Harry shifted and pushed the basin to the other side of the bed, his eyes closed, face still tired and bruised. 

"I guess he'll feel a lot happier when I leave."

Severus stopped stirring sugar into his tea and felt Harry's eyes turn on him. 

"Of course, I understand that you have your own life to return to once you are well enough...."

"Yes?"

Looking around the room, Severus cleared his throat and said quietly, "I feel it is important for you to know that while you need not feel guilty if don't want to, there is a room in the cottage that was supposed to be yours many years ago...and it is still opened to you."

...............................................................

In his third year at Hogwarts, Harry had imagined having a home with Sirius. The idea had filled him with incredible joy at the time. To have a place that would 'his' in a way the Dursley's house never had been, the thought was enough to give him happy dreams for months. 

But, back then he'd been naive, and it had taken him a while to realize that dream wouldn't come true. 

Harry wondered if the word's he'd just heard were the beginning of another doomed dream. God, he hoped not. 

"You want me to live here...with you?"

"Of course, I understand that our history doesn't exactly make for a promising future--you need not answer, I understand your repugnance at the idea--"

"Wait!" Harry said, growing more alarmed as Severus spoke. The man turned to look at him, his eyes guarded, fiercely hiding any hope he felt. "I wasn't saying 'no', I just couldn't believe you'd want me here."

"Of course I want you here," he said with quiet intensity. "I've wanted to see you in this house for years. This is your home."

Against his will, Harry felt his throat close painfully as if a rock was lodged inside. 

"When did your appearance start to change?"

He noticed that the change in topic was for his benefit and Harry wiped at his eyes roughly and replied as steadily as he could. 

"After we'd been searching for the horcruxes a few weeks, Hermione noticed immediately. I didn't really think much about it--there were so many other things to think about, then...then I started having dreams. They weren't like any dreams I'd ever had before, and I knew without a doubt that they weren't the result of my connection with Voldemort."

Severus was quiet, letting Harry talk without interruption. 

"I dreamed I was sick and you came to...to the cupboard and opened the door. You weren't even surprised to find me there."

Harry had to stop talking because the memory was so clear in his mind. Though he had been so young, Harry remembered not being afraid, it was as if some part of him remembered that sad face of the older man and couldn't bother to scrounge up any emotion other than relief. 

Severus sat on the bed next to where Harry's knees were under the quilt. Harry looked up at him, but the man seemed lost in a memory of his own. 

"The urge to take you away from there nearly drove me mad. You were so guileless, even after you'd been put in that little space so no one had to acknowledge your suffering. They didn't deserve you."

Harry hadn't expected the admission or the remorse in Severus' voice when he said it. 

"You acknowledged me," he offered after a moment, it hurt to see the guilt in the other man's face and some part of him ached to fix it. 

"Yes," Severus said bitterly. "For a few moments every year I would show you as much compassion and care as I could, and then take it away from you as soon as you'd started to believe that something could change."

Harry had felt self-loathing plenty of times, and he recognized this as such immediately. Before he could attempt to say anything, Severus wearily pulled a red handkerchief from the pocket of his robe and laid it next to Harry's hand, there was a question in his mind. 

"I'm surprised you didn't continue taking them after your memories began returning, hiding your features would have made it easier to forget."

Reaching for it, Harry toyed with the knots he'd tied while attempting to find the words that would explain what he'd been thinking.

"You know better than anyone what I went through with the Dursley's. They were careful to not show me any sort of affection, so why would I ever want to forget that someone actually cared about me while I was there? Even if those moments were few and far between, even if I had to be forced to forget them, you still visited me when you could have found some other way to get the potion in my system, like you did when I was older."

Harry leaned forward, his back aching at the movement and ran a finger over the candy corn, remembering how he'd bite off each individual section as a child. Remembering how he'd sat on a street corner late one Halloween night eating them obliviously as Severus sat beside him looking sad and forlorn, Harry felt he had to say something else. 

"I'm not mad at you. I don't think there was any way around it, given the circumstances, I know now that you couldn't let me remember you and continue to be a spy when he came back."

"Ah," Severus said, a bit awkwardly. "I didn't think you would be able to comprehend--"

"The immense sacrifices people make because they have no other choice?" Harry interrupted, and when Severus met his eyes, he was smiling a little grimly, but his eyes were bright with emotion. "You have to give me more credit than that now, I may not have been able to realize what you walking away from me meant a few years ago, I most likely would have been hurt and thought you really hated me just like how it seemed at school. But I walked straight up to Voldemort fully intending for him to kill me, and I didn't want to die...; but there wasn't another way to kill him and end the shitty war. I saw the big picture. Saw what the sacrifice would mean for others. Just like when you left me with the Dursley's."

There was a quiet moment in which they observed each other. 

"You do understand," the quiet surprise in his tone made Harry smile and want to cry at the same time. 

"Probably better than anyone else in the world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you feel the healing power of words? Our boys have both grown up so much, *tears* Would love to hear your feedback! Thank you for taking time to read, I appreciate it! One more chapter to go. Poor Draco, can you imagine, "Hmm, Potter looks a lot like...no. No way." We have one super conversation coming up! Hahah!


	3. Chapter Three

It was a few days later that Harry awoke to find his room empty. It seemed that Severus was finally convinced that Harry was steadily getting better, and had retired to his own room for some much needed rest. 

Grateful for the moment of silence to think to himself, Harry sat up and looked around curiously. The fire was almost burnt out, the embers glowing softly in the hearth and there was a sprinkling of ash on the carpet. 

There were a few signs that the room had once been Malfoy's before Harry had suddenly shown up. Some texts from sixth year were stacked neatly on a bookshelf, they were rather used in appearance and Harry studied them from where he sat, trying to remember if Malfoy was as studious as the wear on the tombs seemed to suggest. It was odd to think of Malfoy as actually working to gain anything in his life, but, it seemed now that he was studying quite intently. 

For a moment Harry wondered what would happen to Malfoy, would he try to go back to Hogwarts and finish his schooling? Would he attempt to find and job, and if he did, what jobs were available for reluctant Death Eaters?

Sighing at the memories he'd rather not think about so early in the morning, Harry stretched out his legs and tested them for aches and pains. The last couple of days had been filled with salves and potions, some to drink and others to be massaged into the bruised skin. Harry had become quite acquainted with the schedule he and Severus had developed over the course of his time in the cottage.  
It had been surprisingly easy to discuss the multiple cuts and bruises, malnutrition and other infirmities that had caused him such difficulty. Stretching out his toes, Harry let them brush against the thick carpet and then cautiously pressed them into the floor. 

Mandatory bed rest had never suited Harry, not while he was stuck in the Hogwarts Infirmary and not now that he was an adult. 

The morning light seemed to beckon him into action, coaxing him out of bed, and Harry was happy to oblige. He had seen so little of the house that he may have once called home, and his curiosity wouldn't be stifled any longer. 

Biting his lip, Harry pulled himself up using the tall bed post and tested his weight. It was amazing how his body seemed to doubt itself now at even the smallest of movements. The Death Eaters had done their best to take not only his health, but also his self-confidence. 

"Come on, get a hold of yourself," Harry scolded his legs as they shook a little from holding up his weight. 

From sheer determination alone, Harry managed to steady one foot on the floor and took small steps until he reached the doorway. Sharp pains ran up his legs, and Harry was realizing that perhaps he was not nearly so ready for the journey after all. 

Gritting his teeth, Harry opened the door slowly and made his painful progress out of the room and through a dark hall. 

Severus' house smelt like lavender, and when Harry reached the kitchen doorway, he could see why. Small bundles of the purple flowers hung drying from the ceiling beams, there was a great many of them and Harry forgot some of the pain he was in as he stared at them and around at the room. 

What would life have been like if he'd grown up here? Would he perhaps have trailed behind Severus in their gardens, arms loaded down with herbs and lavender? The thought was a far cry different from his time in his aunt's flower beds, roughly yanking out thorn covered weeds without gloves, and eagerly drinking from the water hose when the sun was at its hottest. 

A rustle from the bedrooms back down the hall made Harry awake out of his melancholy thoughts. Wanting to see more before he was discovered, Harry limped over to the window and gazed out with wide eyes. The yard was covered in a fine layer of snow and the morning sunlight caused everything white to glow with an ethereal light. To think, he'd been staring at a fire for days when he could have been gawking at this. 

Squinting, Harry's eyes traced the slope of nearby hills, all covered with some snow and then turned hesitantly toward to the forest. The cottage was located on a hill, and only the tops of trees were visible from here. A shiver ran through Harry at the sight of them, dark gray and foreboding. 

He'd had enough of woods to last him a lifetime. 

Looking away, Harry made his way to the cabinets across the room, careful not to disturb the few bundles of herbs that hung lower than others. His mouth was almost painfully dry and he opened the nearest cabinet door hopefully. Instead of glasses, Harry found an assortment of biscuits that made him raise an eyebrow. He hadn't thought Severus would have a sweet tooth, but perhaps they were there for Malfoy, after all, he had been living here for at least a few weeks. 

On the next shelf there was a neat row of canned vegetables in glass jars, and on the shelf after that there stood canned fruit. Their labels were written in Severus' spiky writing and Harry was once again surprised by how his perceptions were forced to change. 

Forgiveness had come to Harry with surprising ease the more he understood about who his father truly was, and the sacrifices he had made. Altering the mental image of the man that had resided in his mind for so long, however, was a lot more difficult. Harry barely knew the man, and though he could understand the tough decisions he had made, imagining Severus canning his own produce was surprisingly difficult...and yet, it brought him a strange comfort. 

Harry closed the cabinet slowly, his hand remaining on the warmly colored wood for a long moment as he breathed in the herb scented air. He found himself quite ready to learn more. It would be a challenge, but hadn't his life been a number of challenges, some seemingly impossible? 

Harry turned, and forgetting his thirst, slid down the cabinets to sit down on the floor. Just for a moment, he would sit here in the quiet of the house and soak in the comforting atmosphere. Yes, he could see himself living here. The last few months had been the worst of his existence, and looking back it seemed like someone else had been living his life, for surely, he wasn't strong enough to make it through all that and live to tell about it. 

Now, spread out before him was a uncertain future, and if he was honest, it scared him. 

Soft footsteps entering the kitchen caused Harry to look up. Draco was tiredly brushing a hand through his pale hair, but he stopped when his eyes met Harry's over the edge of the counter top. His face immediately tightened into a partial glare, though his eyes were curious. 

"I hadn't realized you could walk yet," he said. 

Harry looked down at himself in a self-criticizing manner. "I didn't get very far, as you can tell."

As Draco looked around the room, he seemed to be thinking rather hard about something, something he didn't like from the nasty expression on his face. 

"Do you...need help?" The words came out slowly, and Harry blinked and wondered if he had convincingly covered his shock.

His expectations of Draco Malfoy were set rather low, and he wasn't sure what to do when the other man offered to help him, even unwillingly. 

"I think I'll just sit here for another moment," Harry said, and then when Draco's face grew dark, he added quietly, "I'd probably fall on you if I tried to get up now, my legs are pretty shaky."

The admission seemed to soothe Draco's temper and he nodded before looking around the kitchen again. 

"Have you been in here long?"

"I don't think so, I just couldn't stay in that room any longer. It was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic, plus I haven't been in any of the other rooms in this house--not while I was conscious at least. I wanted some water, but couldn't find where Severus keeps his cups."

A weird look came over Draco's face, and Harry thought he knew why. He'd probably be wondering when Harry and Severus decided to use each other's first names, that must have been a bit odd to him. 

Being careful not to step on Harry, Draco moved to a cabinet Harry hadn't tried and fetched a tall glass which he then filled with water at the sink. 

"Here," he said quietly, but not unkindly to Harry as he held out the cup in a steady hand. 

It hung there between them for a second longer than was comfortable, just because it was so surprising. Draco's face started to look strained and Harry reached out quickly to take the cup, trying to make sure his gratefulness was clear on his face. 

"Thank you."

Draco nodded uncomfortably and moved to walk out of the room. Suddenly not wanting to be alone, especially after they seemed to be on the verge of an understanding, Harry grasped at something to say. 

"I don't have it with me--" Harry stopped when Draco turned his head, eyes narrowed. "Your wand, I mean, it's at Hogwarts. I can send it to you by owl post when I leave here."

It was close to a peace offering, and Harry had awful images of Malfoy's face breaking into a snarl and ruining everything. But, Malfoy seemed too shocked to snarl. In fact, Harry had never seen him so surprised and he knew that he had done the right thing. 

"Wands shouldn't travel by owl post, Potter," he said after a moment and sniffed delicately. 

"Oh," Harry muttered, and looked down at his water glass. "Er, but I could bring it you?"

Draco crossed his arms, "That would be acceptable."

Smiling, Harry nodded and leaned his head back against the cabinets and closed his eyes in a pleased way. "Okay, then."

He could hear Draco shifting from one foot to the next, indecision was clear on his face when Harry opened his eyes to look at him curiously. 

"Want to sit?" Harry offered. 

Slowly, Draco moved next to Harry and sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He glanced at Harry sideways, crossed his ankles and looked at him again. 

Sighing, Harry looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What is it, Malfoy? You don't have to sit here, you can leave."

"You look like Severus."

It was without a doubt, the absolute last thing Harry had expected to hear Malfoy say, and he didn't bother to hide his shock or close his gaping mouth. 

"There was something so familiar about you, even though your face had changed. It took me a long minute to figure it out. But you can really see it in the eyebrows, and your mouth is thinner than it was before. Your nose is longer, though not as long as his. You have freckles now too, which Severus doesn't have, but your hair is...like his, it doesn't stand up like it used to. 

They looked at each other, Draco with his mouth set in a firm line, daring in his eyes, and Harry stared back, desperately trying to think of a believable excuse. 

"Potter, are you going to help me out here and tell me why?"

Harry swallowed and blinked. "What makes you think there's a reason for it? Maybe it's a coincidence." He carefully took a long swig of water. 

Draco snorted and looked at him incredulously. "The man cleaned vomit off your face, he's been a completely different person since he found you--seriously, Potter, he went from being a bloody bastard to...to--whatever the hell this is."

Well, when it was put that way, Harry could see why Malfoy would be so certain that his features were more than just coincidence. 

"Is he a relative of yours?" Malfoy continued, hands flying up the air as he leaned against the cabinets beside Harry, everything about his body language exasperated. "Come on, Potter, tell me. Is he a second cousin? A relative removed from your family tree that's been dying to get to know you but had to pretend to hate you because of the war?"

"Wow," Harry said humorously, his voice sounding a little strangled even to his own ears. "Have you been wondering for that long, or did you come up with a dramatic back story that quickly?"

Draco ignored him and continued on, "Don't try to dissuade me, Potter. Tell me, is he--"

"Malfoy, you really need a hobby, you've been cooped up here way too long!" A little water spilled over the edge of the glass as Harry gestured around the room with a wild movement.

Draco narrowed his eyes, "I'm a lot more observant than I used to be, Potter. Even if I wasn't, I'd still notice the difference. Hell, a blind person would notice that he doesn't hate you anymore. In fact, I think he rather likes you, and it's driving me bloody crazy wondering when that changed. He sure enough hated you before the Dark Lord was destroyed--so was it all an act, or what? You either tell me, or I'm going to go ask Severus--"

"He's my father!" Harry blurted. 

Even the birds outside the window seemed to be shocked into silence, and Harry froze. He hadn't meant to say that; he didn't think it was completely his right to tell people without consulting Severus first. But, he couldn't really take it back now, and honestly, he didn't know if he wanted to.

Malfoy frowned at him, "You're hilarious, Potter." 

He moved to stand up and Harry grabbed his ankle with a tight smile, "I am hilarious, took you long enough to notice; but I'm not joking about this. It's not something I would joke about."

Staring at him, Malfoy slowly leaned back, the wood creaking against his weight and Harry released his hold on him.

"Your...."

"Father, yes." Harry swallowed, "Though, I think that's the first time I've actually said it to someone else. Funny that the person is you."

Dazedly, Draco stared at him in disbelief and Harry waited patiently. 

"Uh, has...has Severus just recently found out?"

Harry picked at the bandage on his wrist, the private nature of the conversation striking him quite suddenly. 

"No, he's always known, even since before I came to Hogwarts. The spells and potions that changed my appearance faded over the past year."

"Snape is your father--but he...I always thought he hated you?"

Harry looked at Draco quickly, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes. "That was kind of the purpose for treating me like he did, so no one would know, and when Voldemort returned he'd still have his place amongst the ranks. There was a lot more to think about than just our personal relationship, even back then."

Harry watched the expressions that crossed Draco's face, and wondered if he was thinking about all those years spent in Potion's class, where he would laugh at Harry's expense when Severus scolded him and tore him down. Never once did the older man's true feelings shine through; it was truly incredible to think about how well he had hid his true nature. 

"I couldn't know either," Harry continued. "There was no way I'd have been able to ignore trying to get to know him better, it would have been too risky. Imagine, learning you have a parent after thinking you were an orphan all of your life. I did too many risky things without needing that bit of info to spur me on. The war would have been over in a matter of minutes."

Draco nodded slowly. "And you grew up with your Muggle family, right?"

"Yes, my aunt from my mom's side and her family." Harry shrugged, "Guess there aren't any Potter's left, no one ever mentioned them to me, at least."

Harry wasn't about to go into some maudlin speech about his sad lack of family, and hoped Draco wouldn't ask too many questions about that.

"Someone has gone over your family lineage though, right?"

"Ancestry isn't really something most Muggles talk about, Malfoy."

The idea of someone only knowing a meager amount of history about their bloodline caused Draco to frown. 

"That was part of my pre-Hogwarts schooling--everyone is taught their ancestry, are you sure you just didn't forget?"

Harry was amused. "Malfoy," he said in a dry tone, "I didn't even know my parents were murdered by Voldemort until I was eleven. Living with the Dursley's wasn't like living with a Wizarding family; hell, it wasn't like living with a family at all...."

His voice had trailed off and his eyes stared ahead at the lavender hanging from the ceiling. 

"What was it like then?" Draco prompted a moment later, curious despite himself. 

Harry flushed, his mind recalling nights of locked cupboard doors and his pitiful attempts to get attention. 

"You want to hear about my childhood, really, Malfoy?"

"Do you have somewhere to be, scar head?"

The old insult surprised a laugh out of Harry, which caused Draco to smirk, but, Harry wasn't ready to share anything so hurtful as his odd childhood, and so he steered the conversation away with a sigh. 

"I wonder what it would have been like to grow up here."

Draco followed Harry's eyes around the kitchen, and then he chuckled a little. "You would have been much better at Potion's, most likely."

Harry winced at the memories and Draco chuckled before asking another question. 

"I think it would have taken me longer to see the similarities between you both, if you'd had your glasses on. What happened to them? 

"Oh, they were broken--trampled actually, but it doesn't matter. I can see just fine now."

It took Draco a moment to understand, and when he did, and awkward look came over his face. 

"Ah...the er, Snape's genes don't include bad eyesight?"

Harry chuckled, "You catch on quite fast, Malfoy." 

Shaking his head, Malfoy stood up. "It's weird to think about, and I have more questions than answers. Perhaps if I wasn't so hungry I could process this better. I'm going out to the garden, do you need help getting up?"

"No, I'll manage, thanks."

A few minutes later, Harry leaned against the countertops, panting slightly and hoping that Malfoy wouldn't return to see him unconscious on the floor. "Merlin, Potter, you're in worse shape than Ron's aunt Muriel," Harry said to himself.

"But decidedly less foul in nature and appearance, thank the heavens."

Harry turned his head sharply at the low remark from the kitchen doorway. Severus was watching his sad attempts to remain standing with a guarded look, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

"You're just saying that because we look alike," Harry said daringly and Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I assure you, I wasn't thinking about our similarities at all, but of our differences." His voice was still quiet and a solemnity in his eyes caused Harry to straighten up. 

"Like what?"

Moving into the room, Severus grabbed a chair and placed it next to Harry. 

"Searching for compliments? At least we do seem to share the same amount of determination. I do, however, wish you would take into account your recently healed injuries, as you may have undone any progress I've made in healing you just for a cup of water. Sit down and let me see how much damage you've done."

Chagrined, Harry sat carefully and watched as Severus knelt on one knee and picked up his foot with a frown on his face. 

"They don't hurt very much," Harry said quietly, trying not to move as careful fingers ran over the tender skin on the bottom of his foot. 

"I wish you had asked me before you bounded around the house prematurely." 

Though his tone was stern, it wasn't nearly as harsh as Harry had grown to expect, it was almost touching because he knew the sternness came from concern. And wasn't that an odd thing, to have someone look at you with fatherly concern? Harry hadn't experienced that in quite some time, and he didn't know how to react.

"Sorry," Harry said honestly, and Severus met his eyes before placing his foot down. "I just wanted to see your house, it feels like I've been in the same space for a long time--and truthfully, I was just very curious."

Nodding, Severus looked over the other foot and then stood. "Some things, it seem, never do change. You were exceedingly curious even before you came to Hogwarts."

"Would you...would you show me? I mean, not if you don't want to, but I'd like to see those situations that you had to erase from my mind, I don't remember them all."

Harry didn't expect the hand that landed on his shoulder, but it made some of his nervousness fade away and gave him the courage to look up. 

"Of course, the memories are rightfully yours."

Harry smiled slightly and though Severus didn't exactly smile back, he looked quite content. 

.............................. ............

Draco stopped still when he entered the room to find both Harry and Severus looking at him. 

"Draco, explain to me how it is that you saw the extent of damage done to Potter's feet, and yet when you foolishly found him wandering around, you didn't immediately force him back to bed?"

Draco blinked at the tone of Severus' voice and then narrowed his eyes intently. 

"Perhaps if you had raised him to have a little more common sense, you wouldn't be having these issues now."

Severus was noticeably startled , and Draco smirked in a self satisfied manner before continuing with an air of detached interest. 

"Though, honestly Severus, you haven't been the best role model. Spying on the Dark Lord for years, constantly placing yourself at the mercy of a madman--and yet, you wonder why your own son places so little value on his own health. You know how the world famous idiom goes; the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Harry winced a little when Severus spun away from Malfoy to stare at him, an indecipherable look on his face.

"You told him?"

Harry shrugged apologetically. "He figured it out." 

Draco grasped his head, fingers steepled on both sides of his temples, then closed his eyes and said seriously, "I'm going to attempt to ingrain your current expression into my permanent memory."

Severus ignored Draco, his eyes still on Harry. 

"You...you aren't mad, are you?" Harry asked, his voice almost too quiet to hear. 

"No," Severus said, crossing his arms. "Not mad, though I think it would be wise not to tell too many souls considering the current state of the Wizarding World...I am a little surprised that you did not try harder to keep the matter secret. I had not thought you'd be so keen to reveal the truth so suddenly."

"I understand why I shouldn't go to the Daily Prophet with it, you're already in danger, letting people know you're my...my father wouldn't do anything but make you a more interesting target. But, I don't see why Malfoy here can't know anything about it, he's not likely to blab."

Draco tried to decipher the look on Severus's face. "You thought he'd be ashamed of you."

"Ashamed?" Harry said in amazement, he stood up and leaned heavily against the counter top. "I'd be rather barmy if I thought you were anything to be ashamed of. Especially now that I know--"

"Well," Severus said, not looking at Harry. "I haven't exactly done anything to improve my appearance as a good parent figure, there will be many that won't approve, and others who will suggest that your parentage is less than legitimate."

"What?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "They're going to think you're a bastard, Potter."

"Oh," Harry shrugged, "They've called me worse before, and what they think doesn't matter anyway. We know the truth, and I know what you've done for me and what you've sacrificed. I could never be ashamed of that."

Severus nodded after a moment, and then met Harry's eyes in a comfortable silence. 

"Well," Severus said, "since you're so very determined to venture out of your room, you might as well sit at the table while Draco makes breakfast."

Draco frowned and watched as Severus offered to help Harry over to the dining room table. 

"Is this some sort of payback for my 'apple doesn't fall far' comment? Because, if so, it's rather low. Cooking is for house elves, I nearly set the lavender on fire last time."

"Which is why you need more practice," Severus replied sternly and then smirked at Harry slightly while ignoring the grumbles from the blond. 

"Tell me about the lavender, why so much of it?" Harry asked. Severus nodded and moved across the room to make tea for them all. Listening to his father's soft tone and the other homely noises that surrounded him, Harry realized that it was almost like being in the Weasley's kitchen. 

Harry had loved his time there, surrounded with cheerful noise, warm food and a familiarity he had not often experienced. 

The only difference between the Burrow and Severus' cottage was that Harry knew he could truthfully call this place home. It was a strange but welcome thought that filled him with warmth as the scent of warm bread filled his nose, and a cup of earl gray tea was placed by his hand. 

"Are you alright?"

Harry blinked and looked up into his father's concerned eyes. 

"Yeah, I am." Harry smiled a little, "For the first time in a long time, I really am."

Severus seemed to comprehend even the things Harry didn't speak out loud, and it was such a comfortable feeling to know that some things didn't have to be said to be understood.

They were finally free from the previous circumstances that had thus far dictated their lives. Neither of them were foolish enough to believe that the life that lay ahead of them would be perfect, or even ideal. But, for Harry, who still longed for the parent he'd never known, and for Severus who had given up on the idea of having a family of his own a long time ago, it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I literally forgot I hadn't added the last chapter to the story. I don't know where my head goes sometimes you guys.   
> I wrote this for Potions & Snitches 2016 Storyfest and it won, so yay! I didn't wrap the story up with a neat little bow, they have a messy future ahead, but there is hope for them, and that's what I wanted to convey. Would vey much appreciate feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Please review, more to come very soon! I've written this sequel about three different ways, each of them taking place at three different times in Snape's and Harry's life. Though this was the one people probably didn't want (most everyone wanted a young Harry to discover he had a father and for them to live happily ever after) it was the only one that felt as raw and heartfelt as I wanted it to. Draco just jumped in of his own accord. He wasn't supposed to be there, I just imagined him in my head watching from a doorway as Severus took care of Harry, noting the tenderness and care he'd never seen in the man before and trying desperately to make sense of it.  
> Thank you so very much for reading, if you enjoyed I would love to know! Reviews make me smile and give me much needed encouragement. This story is an entrant in the Potions and Snitches 2016 Springfest.


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